What Becomes Of Friends
by Maple Fay
Summary: Once you throw the dice, you have to accept the outcome and play the game, but are they ready for this?... A Lovejoy/Jane story, AU to the end of "Members Only" and "Highland Fling".
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Let's start with an unpopular opinion of mine, shall we? Here goes: I don't think Lovejoy and Jane should have ended up together, not after everything that happened post-series three. THAT said, up until the end of series three I was rooting for them like crazy. Which is why I feel the need to mend some things._

_This story picks up the storyline at the end of "Members Only", sans the hooligans who'd spoilt that perfect moment outside the restaurant, and follows Jane and Lovejoy as they leave for Scotland. I hope you enjoy it, and I'd appreciate any feedback you'd be willing to provide me with!_

* * *

><p><strong>What Becomes Of Friends<strong>

"Lovejoy—"

"Shh," he raised his hand to her face, searching her eyes for permission. They were close, so close he could swear her heartbeat resonated in his ears. This was it. No turning back. No place to hide, no way he could deny the feelings he was having.

_I know how you feel, Janie._

_Do you, Lovejoy?_ Oh, the hope in her voice... the darkening of her eyes right now.

He was sure he knew.

He let his hand fall down, brush her hip, pull her close—and finally, after years and years of imagining, kissed Lady Jane Felsham.

Her lips parted under his as she let out a small sigh and kissed him back, her right hand grabbing at the lapel of his jacket. She was intoxicatingly sweet, warm and responsive; he could easily lose himself in her...

"Good evening, Lady Jane, Lovejoy. Did you enjoy your meal?"

_Weren't the Japanese supposed to be very _private_ people?_ "Mr. Kashimoto." The bespectacled Asian gave him a toothy grin. _Too much wine with his dinner. Figures._ "Yes, it was quite nice." _Not as nice as the thing that came afterwards; and I'd much rather be doing that than talking to you, mister._

"Very good fish. We have good fish in Japan, too. Have you tried sushi, Lovejoy?"

He was about to scream at the poor man and tell him to shove off, when Jane's hand placed flat on his back shut him up rather efficiently. "Mr. Kashimoto, please forgive me," Jane's low, soft voice cut into the slightly slurry tirade of the red-faced Japanese, "but I don't feel very well. Would you take me home, Lovejoy?"

Bless this woman: not only was she an excellent kisser and a beauty, but she also had a sharp mind and knew exactly how to use it. "Certainly, my lady. Mr. Kashimoto, would you excuse us?..."

The man offered a hurried apology and backed away to rejoin his party, and Lovejoy smirked at his retreating back before looking back to Jane. She was fiddling with the clasp of her purse, not meeting his eyes. Lovejoy frowned and reached out to still her fingers, running his thumb over her knuckles as he took her hand. "Jane?"

She raised her eyes to his and offered him a shaky smile that broke his heart a little. Was she already regretting giving in to the thrill of the moment? He hoped she wasn't—in fact, he wished they could repeat that kiss, and much more, before the night was over—but he knew better than to push her, not here, not now.

"It's alright, Janie. It's all good. _We're_ good," he said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Now, let's get you home."

* * *

><p>The drive home was awfully quiet. Jane stared out of the window, her fingers clasping the purse in her lap (<em>Perhaps the only reason why women carried their purses around was for stress relief?<em>). Lovejoy tried to concentrate on driving—which wasn't easy, given how he could still taste Jane when he ran his tongue on the inside of his mouth.

They _really_ needed to talk, if not anything else.

When he finally pulled up at Felsham Hall, the tension inside the car was thick enough to cut it with a wooden spoon. He killed the engine and placed his hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead and waiting for Jane to say something—anything—to let him know where they stood.

His resolve to be patient and understanding lasted about thirty seconds.

He turned to Jane and gently touched her shoulder, making her blink rapidly and look at him, wide-eyed. "Penny for your thoughts, Janie?"

"You would need much more than that," she answered in a low voice and bit her lip.

"I'm willing to give you anything at all," he declared solemnly. She managed a lopsided smile and reached for the hand he still kept on her shoulder; Lovejoy gave it to her without questioning, and watched, mesmerized, as she traced the outline of each finger, then turned it palm up and followed the heart line with her fingertip.

She seemed small, unsure, lost—like a little girl in the fog.

And the realization that it was _him_ that made her feel this way hit Lovejoy like a shovel to the head.

"I should probably head back," he said quietly, despite all his senses going into overdrive and screaming at him to grab this woman and have his wicked way with her—preferably _not_ in Miriam's backseat, although it could be arranged. In nine cases out of ten he'd have absolutely no objections to follow through with this plan, but not this time: not with Jane. If one simple kiss managed to get her into such a state, they would both be better off if he simply went home and…

"Won't you come inside, Lovejoy?"

His head shot up and he gave her a thoughtful look, noticing the determined set of her chin and the slight glaze in her eyes. "If you're sure—"

Jane simply nodded and got out of the car, heading for the door without ever looking back to see if he followed. She probably knew he wouldn't be able to resist the invitation, however hesitant a one.

* * *

><p>When he stepped over the threshold, she was already in the sitting room, turning the lights on and busying herself with idle things like rearranging the porcelain figurines on a mantelpiece. "How about a drink, then? Or perhaps some coffee? You cannot tell me you've actually <em>enjoyed<em> that poor excuse of a—"

"Janie," Lovejoy crossed the room in a few long steps and grasped her hands, stopping her mid-motion, "sit down, love. You're vibrating."

She shook her head, averting her eyes. "Honestly, Lovejoy, I feel perfectly—"

"I've told you once, and I will say it again: I _know_ how you feel, Janie."

This actually caught her attention, and made her look at him, pleadingly. "I'm not quite sure you do."

"Let me tell you, then. You want… this," he ran his thumbs over her hands, up to the underside of her wrists and back, "you want _us_—but you're terrified of what comes next. And I reciprocate each of these feelings."

Jane cocked her head to the side and sighed in exasperation. "You're right. And it's an extremely irritating thing for you to be."

"Well, perhaps we need to do something about it."

"What do you suggest?"

_Taking you in my arms, carrying you upstairs and making you forget your own name, let alone everything you're afraid of._ "How about we have some milk with a drop of tea, and then I kiss you again and go home… and we see how you feel about all this tomorrow?"

Jane looked down and squeezed Lovejoy's hands, shaking her head with a determined look on her face. "No, Lovejoy. This wouldn't do at all. I appreciate your offer, but it's not what I want."

_Well, at least I got to kiss her…_ "Alright, Janie, I get it. I'll be on my way then, shall—"

He didn't finish the sentence.

It's quite difficult to talk when a perfectly beautiful woman throws her arms around your neck and kisses you with everything she's got, isn't it?...

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **Thank you very much for all your kind reviews of chapter one! Here comes another installment: and yes, I realize Lovejoy's being uncharacteristically sensible and caring in this story, but I DID mention I was writing it to soothethe wounds inflicted by the show writers on my fangirly heart, didn't I? Hence the personal growth of Lovejoy._

_Reviews are welcome, and make me a very happy woman.  
><em>

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><p>He was just conscious enough to realize that a phone was ringing somewhere nearby, but not nearly awake enough to try and locate it, much less answer the blasted thing. Either way, the screeching would stop soon—the caller would eventually tire of hanging on to the receiver, or somebody would pick up.<p>

A soft rustle and a click told him it was the second option that prevailed. Eric was a good lad at times, coming in so early...

"Hello? Oh, it's you, Eric."

...or not.

"Yes, he's here. No. No. Not before lunch, I believe. Shall I tell him to call you once he's back from the dead? All right. Yes, thank you, you too."

Lovejoy felt the mattress dip gently under the weight of another body coming to rest next to his. He held his breath and waited, not sure if he should keep on pretending to be asleep, or admit that he wasn't.

"Open your eyes and face the day, Lovejoy."

Somehow, life was easier when she would make up his mind for him.

"Good morning, Janie," he said, opening his eyes to find her lying on the covers next to him, wrapped in a brocade coverlet. "At least I daresay it is...?"

"You should have more faith in me, and in yourself," she answered with a smug smile and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Sleep well?"

"Very." He caught her hand, held it against his cheek, kissed her palm. "I could get used to that."

"I'm sure you could," she smiled, tracing the outline of his mouth with her fingertips. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Later," he murmured, pulling Jane to him and kissing her forehead sloppily. "Let me hold you a little longer."

She chuckled, but didn't pull away. "I'm not going anywhere, Lovejoy. I'd rather be afraid _you_ might."

"I do that a lot, don't I? Hopefully not this time, though. What did Eric want?"

"Something about a potential client with... a mirror? Is it important?"

"No idea."

"Perhaps you should call him and find out?"

He frowned and looked at the top of her head with suspicion. "Would you like me to?" _Would you like me out of your bed?_

"No. As long as you're sure you won't regret passing on the opportunity."

"Oh, there are other things I'd regret _not doing_ if I got up right now," he whispered as his hand travelled down Jane's bare back. He could feel her smile against his chest, her breath tantalizingly warm on his flesh. "I'm rather happy where I am, thank you."

She whispered something barely audible. "What was that, love?"

"I was wondering how long it could possibly last," she repeated in a stronger, yet incredibly sad voice.

Lovejoy sighed and stretched, pulling Jane more or less on top of him to look her in the eye. "Well, I'll tell you this, Janie—I have absolutely no idea. I'm not very good at this 'serious' thing: but you make me wish I was. And I'm willing to give it a go... if you are." _Are you?_

Jane nodded and propped her chin on his collarbone. "And I'm not really good at acting without a script or jumping head first into things—but perhaps I might be persuaded to."

"What a coincidence! 'Persuasion' is one o my favourite words... and means of operation."

He kissed her then, tasting the warm softness of her mouth painfully slowly, until she sighed in frustration and took the initiative, biting his lower lip and soothing it with her tongue a moment later. Lovejoy groaned appreciatively and rolled them over, busying himself with renewing his fairly fresh acquaintanceship with Jane's lovely neck, and all the points upon it that, when properly taken care of, made her shiver and scratch her nails down his back. His lips trailed a path downwards, and his hands pushed the heavy material of the coverlet away as he went, licking and nipping until he reached her breasts and spent a good deal of time familiarizing himself with Jane's reactions to particular types of caresses. Her responsiveness surprised him in the best possible way and urged him to try new touches, angles and pressure points and he went on, exploring.

She tasted like the ocean and musk, rich and spicy, and since it was the first time he tasted her (the urgency of the previous night did not accommodate it), he made sure to take his time, and bring her the greatest pleasure he could possibly offer.

After a long (and pleasurable) while, Lovejoy stretched on the bed on his side, his left thumb stroking Jane's hip in slow, hypnotizing movements. Jane gave him a brilliant smile and a peck on the lips, tasting herself with a moan. "_I_ could get used to _that_," she quoted Lovejoy's own words and stretched under his hands, like a cat napping in the sun.

"Are you...?" she asked and paused suggestively, cupping his face in her hands. Lovejoy shook his head and smiled, feeling unnaturally altruistic for a change.

"It was all for you, Janie. Now tell me—what would you like to do today? I assume we won't stay in bed all day, as tempting as the prospect might seem?..."

"Definitely not! I need to call a friend in Scotland: she seems to be having some problems and wants to talk it over with a friendly soul. And I need to check in on a house nearby, see how the work's been going... would you like to come along?"

_I would rather stay here, since your bed suddenly seems like the most interesting place in the world._ "I think I'd better make sure that Eric hasn't committed some grievous mistakes in terms of sales and purchases. How about you come over for dinner when you're done? I'll fix us something nice." He thought about the previous evening and frowned. "_Not_ fish."

* * *

><p>"I'll see you later, then."<p>

"Uh-huh."

"Have a nice day."

"Mhm... I'll miss you."

"Me too."

"...Jane?"

"Yes, Lovejoy?"

"You think after today we'll ever go back to saying 'goodbye' in a way that would take less than fifteen minutes?"

"I'm... not sure. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all—and long as _you_ don't."

"I'll give you another question, then. What do we tell Eric and Tinker? And, well, _everyone_?..."

* * *

><p>Tinker poured more brandy into his afternoon tea and glared disapprovingly at Lovejoy. "She let you crash on her couch <em>again<em>? You should start paying her some rent, Lovejoy."

_Don't I wish..._ "I've invited her for an early dinner today, so I want the two of you out of here before five, understood?"

Both Tinker and Eric shrugged and went back to their respective tasks (raising the blood alcohol level and checking last month's invoices), while Lovejoy busied himself with putting an additional layer of dark lacquer over a low table he want to pass for about fifty years older than the thing really was. His mind wasn't in it, though: it focused on the more pressing matters.

The easiness with which both his colleagues accepted his explanation as to why he'd stayed at Felsham Hall for the night—drunkenness and tiredness—made him wonder: was everything that happened between Jane and himself so unusual, so hard to believe? Would a relationship between them seem impossible to everyone who knew them?

He dearly hoped not.

To be honest, Lovejoy did not anticipate the events of the previous night. He _wanted_ them—he _had been wanting them_ for quite a while—but things with him and Jane have been more or less fixed for a while now. They were friends, colleagues and business partners, with an ever-present underlay of sexual tension, but neither of them seemed willing to change this. On Lovejoy's side the 'stagnation' was due to his reluctance to follow through with serious emotional commitments; Jane, he supposed, was still recovering from that terrible mess her marriage had been. And yet, when an opportunity to alter the state of things presented itself to them, they both fell for it, willingly: although he was quite terrified of all the possible implications of this new arrangement.

What _were_ they, actually? They were exclusive, no doubt about that: but what else? Were they what young people called 'friends with benefits'? Were they lovers? Merely sleeping together? Two grownups acting out on the tension they'd been feeling? Two people in love _and_ having sex?

Two people about to realize they did something they deeply regret?

The barn doors opened, and Jane walked in, smiling kindly at all of them, although Lovejoy thought her smile widened a bit when her eyes rested on him—and suddenly, he knew what, or rather _who_, he was.

And if he'd been terrified before, he didn't know how to describe his feelings as the realization hit him.

He decided to pull an O'Hara, and think about it some other time. "Hello, Janie," he beamed at her from his corner of the barn, not wanting to seem too happy to see her by rushing over and kissing her senseless: after all, it was her idea to keep everything under the covers for the time being. "That was rather quick, wasn't it?"

"I got off the phone with Katrina much faster than I thought," she replied, walking over to his table and standing next to him, their hips brushing just so. "Apparently things are much worse than I'd imagined. This couldn't possibly be handled that way."

Lovejoy frowned, not sure if he liked the direction Jane's words seemed to have taken. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Jane nodded, looking at him with a peculiar spark in her eyes. "Yes, Lovejoy—I'm going to Scotland."

She glanced back to check whether Eric or Tinker paid them any attention, and put a hand on his forearm, stroking his skin like the fur of a cat.

"And I would very much like you to come with me."

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** You have absolutely no idea how thrilled I am to hear that you like this story! This chapter takes us to Scotland, which is why I'll have Lovejoy humming various traditional tunes from that wonderful part of the world. I'm also rewriting some parts of "The Highland Fling", to have it fit my crazy vision of the world._

_May I just point out, for propriety's sake, that I don't own anything in the story? Except for Lovejoy's sensible thoughts, since the creators of the series seemed to have forgotten about equipping him with them as they went._

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><p>"<em>Oooh,<br>I love a lassie, a bonnie Hielan' lassie,  
>I could sit an' let her tease me for a week:<br>For the way she keeps behavin' well, I never pay for shavin',  
>'Cause she rubs ma whiskers clean off with her cheek.<br>And underneath ma bonnet, where the hair was, there's none on it,  
>For the way she pats ma head has made me bald.<br>I know she means no harm, for she'll keep me nice and warm,  
>On the frosty nichts sae very cauld..."<em>

"Remind me again, Lovejoy—why did I let you come with me?..."

"Because you adore my company, although you pretend otherwise for the sake of innocent passersby."

"Why, of course. How could I ever forget that? Wait, I know: the thought has been completely shushed out by your singing… or what you believe to qualify as singing."

Lovejoy grinned and let go of the steering wheel with one hand to squeeze Jane's thigh affectionately. "I cannot help it. It's the wonderful Scottish landscape that makes me feel quite giddy… that and your exquisite company, Janie. You fit in here very well, did you know that?"

"Lovejoy, you do realize I'm not actually a Scot, don't you?"

"Are you sure about that? With your hair and your temper, I'd wager you had at least one Scottish grandparent… what was that for?" He pouted as she smacked him on the shoulder.

"So that you wouldn't forget about my _temper_."

"Darling, I could name a dozen ways in which you could remind me of your temper that don't include causing me bodily harm... _'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, and thine artless winning smile, that made this world an Eden, Bonnie Mary of Argyll_…"

Jane rolled her eyes and chuckled, grasping his hand. "You're insufferable."

"Ah, but isn't this why you like me...?"

* * *

><p>"Let me sum this up," Lovejoy groaned as he stretched on the covers on Jane's bed, and watched with half-closed eyes as Jane arranged her clothes in the wardrobe. "Your friend Katrina wants me to assess a bureau cabinet which we cannot access at the moment. Her mother, Lady Rebecca, seems fixed on getting as much alcohol inside herself as possible. Edward, the husband, is much the same, despite grumbling constantly about his health. There's a raving mad dog under my bed, and a creaking floor in the corridor between your doors and mine. And nobody knows the truth about you and me, which calls for lots of creeping down the darkened corridors, creaky floors be damned. Did I miss something?"<p>

"You forgot the PGs, nosing around," Jane added unhelpfully, throwing a red dress on the bed next to Lovejoy. "And the bagpipes. There will surely be bagpipes playing somewhere before dinner."

That earned her another frustrated groan. "Why did I ever agree to come down here in the first place?"

Jane chuckled and sat down on the bed, looking down and Lovejoy with amusement. "Because you were kind enough to protect me from the drafts and night-time ghosts typically found in every Scottish castle?"

He perked up a bit upon hearing that statement, and grinned at her. "Is that so? And are you afraid of ghosts, Janie?"

"There are worst things happening at night, Lovejoy. Male servants wandering down the hallways, entering the ladies' bedrooms unbidden..."

His eyes gleamed mischievously as he reached out and pulled her closer, their lips almost, but not quite, brushing. "You have given this idea much thought, haven't you?"

"I might have done," she admitted, and gave him a rather promising kiss before pulling away from his embrace. "But let's not waste time for my fantasies. We should get ready for dinner."

"Jane, your... _fantasies_... are worth every single second we spend talking about them—not to mention the time spent _fulfilling_ them, should that be your wish. But if insist, I'll leave you to whatever you need to do—not that you actually require any help to look absolutely stunning."

Jane rolled her eyes and held out her hand to help Lovejoy up. "Let's see if I can still surprise you, Lovejoy..."

* * *

><p>She did surprise him.<p>

And made him add another item to the list of Things That Annoyed Him: the number of men that ogled her shamelessly throughout the course of the evening.

He did understand their interest—after all, the word 'stunning' he'd used earlier to describe Jane didn't even come close to doing her justice, not when she wore that red dress and a matching lipstick that made his blood boil—and in some twisted, possessive way it made him feel proud of Jane, but he knew he'd prefer to meet those lustful glances with a cold, hard look, wrap an arm around Jane's waist, and state his right (his _exclusive_ right) to look at her this way...

Lovejoy reminded himself that it was Jane's decision to keep everything under the (proverbial, as well as literal) covers for the time being, and turned back to Katrina, who's been telling him about the bureau cabinet in an agitated whisper. "Don't you think it's a good time to slip away and check _that thing_, before your mother's done with the pictures?" _And before I _accidentally_ punch some PG in the face?_

Katrina looked around the room, obviously making sure her mother was still occupied, and stopped when her eyes reached Jane, talking to the American couple. "If you sure Jane won't mind your disappearing all of a sudden..."

Lovejoy's eyes followed Katrina's—Jane seemed to be having a nice time; and besides, she _did_ ask him to look at that piece... "She knows I'm here to help you, and she would like me to do my job properly, I'm sure. Shall we?..."

* * *

><p>He knew the bureau cabinet was a fake almost from the moment he laid eyes on it. Somebody did a great job trying to conceal it, but they clearly didn't take into account a divvy coming over to look at the piece. He double-checked everything, down to the screws, yet the fact remained: the only thing Katrina proved could save her house was a no-go.<p>

And Lovejoy had absolutely no idea how to tell her about it.

Fortunately, they were disturbed by the arrival of Lady Rebecca—and by the time they'd escaped to the corridor, their conversation took a different turn.

"Lovejoy, I really need to thank you—"

_Oh no, here it comes..._ "How about we find a buyer before you do?" he joked, trying to dismiss her gratitude as gently as possible.

"Not for the bureau cabinet," Katrina shook her head, smiling at Lovejoy a little too affectionately for his liking. "For Jane. I haven't seen her look that happy for years."

He stopped in his tracks and frowned. "Why do you say that? Has Jane told you anything?"

Katrina punched his shoulder playfully, and giggled like a little girl. _The booze vapours from Lady Rebecca's room must have been more deadly than I thought._ "She didn't have to. It's just the look on her face, the way she laughs... She's been through a lot, Lovejoy. Don't hurt her."

He nodded solemnly, slightly uncomfortable with the conversation, but not with the topic itself. "I'll do my best."

"That's not enough. You need to do _everything_—or Hector will be the least problematic dog you'll encounter."

The glare she gave him made Lovejoy feel quite content with the fact that Jane wasn't, in fact, a _real_ Scot.

* * *

><p>She was fast asleep when he came in, curled upon the covers with an open book lying next to her. The only light in the room, a bedside table lamp, embraced her gently, outlining every curve of her arm, her lovely shoulder, her hip, rising gently under the white silk of a nightdress Lovejoy instantly fell in love with. Jane's face was pale without the makeup, her eyelashes casted long shadows on her cheeks—she looked as young as Katrina seemed to be when she giggled at Lovejoy mere moments ago; and yet, he knew looks could be deceptive, and this woman, this beautiful, gorgeous woman, had experienced many things in her life, not all of them good. It made her vulnerable, even though she seemed strong and confident: some things simply couldn't be hidden when one was asleep. All her fears, her hopes and desires were written on that face as she floated in her dreams.<p>

She could have had anything she wanted if she put her mind to it, Lovejoy was certain of that—any career, any trinket that tickled her fancy, any man.

And yet, she was here—with him. True, she didn't tell anyone about their arrangement, not with her words at least: but she _did_ choose him, and he chose her.

It scared the Hell out of him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Quietly he slipped his shoes and jacket off and got on the bed, putting his arms around Jane and inhaling her scent: moisturizer and soap, so different from what she wore during the day. This was private, for his eyes (or nose) only, and he revelled in the sensation.

Jane stirred as he pulled a sheet around her shoulders, and scooted closer to him, putting her head in the middle of his chest. "Where were you?" she mumbled sleepily, not in the least bothered by the fact that he was still wearing most of his clothes, and obviously hadn't had the time to shower.

"I went to take a look at that bureau cabinet," he responded, popping a few buttons of his shirt loose to get a little more comfortable without having to actually get up.

"Any good?" Jane sounded more or less awake now, but she kept her eyes closed, and her nose buried in Lovejoy's shirt. "Will it help her save the house?"

He sighed and rubbed his chin against her hair, feeling much more helpless than he was ready to admit. "It's a fake, Janie. A fairly new one, too—made not three years ago."

That really woke her up, and made her sit on the bed and frown at him in confusion. "You don't think—?"

"That somebody beat Katrina to it? Yes. That's the only possible explanation."

Jane pulled her knees up and cocked her head, looking even more frail and lost than before. "What do we do now?"

Lovejoy reached out and pulled her back to him, tucking the sheet around both of them with patience he'd never suspected himself to be capable of. "We sleep. And then we get up, we have a long bath and a big, Scottish breakfast, and perhaps go for a walk—and _then_ I'll call a friend of a friend who might give me the name of the forger who did this. And we look for a way to help Katrina out, with or without the bureau cabinet."

Jane purred happily and caressed Lovejoy's cheek before resting her head back against his chest. "I like the sound of that. Except—"

"Except what, sweetheart?"

"Katrina said that the hot water boiler had been breaking down recently, and there probably won't be enough water for two baths. Have you forgotten?"

"Of course I haven't! But I _have_ taken a good look at that spacious tub you've got in your bathroom…"

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** A very short note today, for I'm at a risk of repeating myself (as in: thank you so much for all the reviews, they're all made of candy!); I only wanted to say that this chapter, or at least the first part of it, is dedicated to **mellastar**, in hope that it will improve her mood after a certain meeting..._

* * *

><p>He woke up to a slight pulling in his neck and a dull ache residing in the lower part of his back; apparently he was no longer able to fall asleep practically anywhere and feel rested in the morning. The years were clearly catching up on him, as much as he wanted to deny it.<p>

Jane was asleep, curled up next to him the way she'd been all night, her fingers having mysteriously found their way under his half-opened shirt. He smiled at the peaceful expression on her face, and looked over to the clock on the nightstand. They were running late.

And he really _did _want that bath, so…

Gently he extracted himself from her embrace and undressed, walking into the bathroom in the nude and pausing in front of the mirror to examine himself as he waited for the tub to fill.

_Well, isn't that a sorry sight._ He groaned in frustration and turned away from the glass, contemplating the soap bubbles forming on the surface of the water. He wasn't usually so self-conscious: was that yet another thing that came as a packet with being in a relationship with Jane Felsham? Doubts and worries as well as excitement and exhilaration?

Speaking of which…

"Good morning," Jane's voice, a little raspy from sleep, came from behind him as she slipped her arms around his waist. Lovejoy turned and grinned at her like an idiot.

"You're wearing my shirt," he pointed out, pulling her in for a kiss by the corners of the collar.

"I am aware of that. It was _me_ that put it on."

Lovejoy rolled his eyes and released Jane from his arms, turning back towards the tub to check on the water. "The bath is ready, milady," he announced with mock seriousness. "Would you care to join me?"

Jane eyed the tub suspiciously. It looked sturdy enough, with bronze lion-paw shaped legs holding up a large, oval bowl, now filled with hot, soapy water: but had it really been made to accommodate _two_ people? 'I'm not sure it's such a good idea, Lovejoy..."

"Nonsense," he stated firmly, and got into the tub himself, sitting down at the wider end. "It's going to be just fine. Come here, I'll show you."

Reluctantly, Jane raised her hands to the buttons of his shirt and undid them, letting the garment fall to the floor. Lovejoy reached out, taking her waist and guiding her slowly into the tub, rendered speechless by the sight she presented.

"Why no sculptor had asked you to pose as Aphrodite, I shall never understand," he declared solemnly, pulling her forward until she kneeled on the bottom of the tub, her legs on either side of his hips, the water around them sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

"The floor is going to get wet," Jane remarked dryly, even as her arms found their way around Lovejoy's neck.

"We'll mop it off later," he moaned against her lips, and for a long, blessed while neither of them spoke anymore.

It was all about touching, caressing and soothing every real and imaginary pain, dissolving them in the water that made them both feel much more intensely, want more desperately, cling to the other more hungrily…

Naturally, the logistics proved rather challenging, what with the slippery surfaces, the water cooling down rapidly and significantly less space than they'd been accustomed to—but in the end, as Jane fell against Lovejoy's chest and sighed happily, the experiment turned out to be quite successful, not to mention satisfying to both of them.

"Are you happy?" he asked her, drawing patterns on her skin under the water.

"You've chosen a rather self-gratifying moment to have me answer that," she replied, and nipped playfully at the joint of his neck and shoulder.

"Janie, I mean it... are you? In general, not just now."

"You're awfully serious today, aren't you?" There was a smile in her voice as she snuggled up closer to him, not making a move to get out of the tub despite begin half-submerged in cold water. "Well, to answer your question—I am. Very, very happy." She reached up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

_Yes. Like why you won't you tell anyone about us..._ "What's for breakfast? And are we going to have to suffer through another fancy dinner tonight?"

Jane chuckled and sat up, water trickling down her breasts in the most enticing manner. "Oh, come on, Lovejoy, it's not that bad, is it? Especially since you've made quite a hit with Lady Rebecca. And I promise to make the suffering worth your while..."

* * *

><p>Nothing could have possibly made <em>this<em>any better. Not by a long shot.

Fifteen more minutes, and he would have ground his teeth down to the bone.

Robert _frigging_ Fraser. The Oscar Wilde of wood industry his ass.

And Jane _laughed with him_! Talked with him throughout the dinner! Let him put an arm around her shoulders! _While I sat there, talking to Katrina, and watched_.

It was much more irritating than a stupid wardrobe falling down in his head. At least when a piece of furniture buried him under a flood of wood and paper, Jane seemed anxious for his wellbeing, and let him sleep in her room, holding him tight in the circle of her arms.

"Never do that again. Never make me worry like that," she murmured against his hair, kissing his temple.

Lovejoy pretended to be asleep, but stayed awake for much longer, clasping Jane's hand in his, staring off into space.

This was all very, very wrong.

* * *

><p>Katrina looked up from the drawings and frowned. "Are these valuable, Lovejoy?"<p>

"I couldn't tell you. My gut says: 'yes', but I need another opinion to be sure. After the bureau cabinet fiasco I'd like to give you a reliable answer."

"What do you suggest, then?"

Lovejoy scratched his neck, avoiding Jane's eyes. "I need to go to London for a while. I should be back by the end of the week with more information—hopefully it will take care of your financial troubles."

Katrina nodded, looking visibly relieved. "What about you, Jane? Are you going back with Lovejoy?"

Lovejoy held his breath, feigning indifference even though his whole being vibrated with adrenaline.

"I think I'll stay here, wait for him to come back," she smiled at Lovejoy and patted his wrist. "Perhaps we'll find the missing pictures in the meantime... unless you'd rather I went with you?" she asked, searching his eyes with a pleading look.

_I'd like you to do whatever makes you happy._ "Stay, Janie, get some rest and help Katrina. I won't be long."

She eyed him rather suspiciously, but in the end nodded and let the matter go. "As long as you're sure…"

* * *

><p>Now, standing with her at the airport and getting ready to board, he was no longer sure of anything.<p>

"Lovejoy," Jane's voice shook him out of his reverie. "Why are you like that?"

"Like what, Janie?"

"Like _that_, she punched him playfully on the chest, but her eyes remained serious, focused on him. "You've been awfully quiet all the way. Never once sang anything. This isn't like you at all. What's eating you?"

He knew he was acting rather irrationally, and didn't want to take it out on her, but in the end it was stronger than him. "Maybe I'm just unhappy to be leaving you behind," he said, hoping it would put the matter to rest.

He'd forgotten it was Jane Felsham he was talking to. "I asked if you wanted me to come with you," she reminded him gently, frowning a little. "I would have, if I knew you did. And you seemed to have accepted my decision, until…" She paused and bit her lip, frowning some more. "Lovejoy, is this about Robert, by any chance?"

He shrugged, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "What if I told you it was? What if I told you I didn't want you to go wandering about the woods with him? Would that change anything?"

"Yes," she answered plainly, and cupped his face in her hands. "Because then I would have told you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Lovejoy," she stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly, giving him a beautiful, radiant smile. "Not so long ago you'd told me you knew how I felt, and you were right. More than this—you said you felt the same. Nothing's changed since then, not a single thing. You've got to believe me if this thing is to work out for us."

So he told her that, of course, he believed her—and then he kissed her some more, promised to call after he got home, and walked away in the general direction of the departures lobby, hardly seeing where he went, the knuckles of his hand clutching the duffel bag turning white.

"Problem is, Janie," he muttered under his breath, causing a few passersby to throw him curious looks, "things _have_ changed since we talked."

_For instance, I've finally found a proper name for what it is that I'm feeling for you._

_And now I have absolutely no idea what you would do about it if you knew._

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** One more chapter, and we're done, I suppose… This is a rather important piece in terms of the actual plot of the series, since we're approaching the delicate subject of dogs under beds and motorcycles interrupting night time activities. The solution to these problems has been provided by a friend of mine, who, upon my having shown her the episode, told me exactly what she thought should have happened here. So, there you go, A., this one's for you._

_As always, your reviews are golden, and I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to leave them._

* * *

><p>"Come on now, Lovejoy, out with it."<p>

Lovejoy suppressed a groan. He'd hoped that complaining about the lack of duty free booze on the plane would keep Tinker's mind occupied throughout the whole flight—but the older man apparently had other plans, and other topics of conversation he wished to cover. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Tink."

"Yes, you do. You've been miserable since last night, and you're even more so today. What's the problem?"

"Jane."

"Lovejoy, it's still me, Tinker. Why are you calling me 'Jane'? I think you're hallucinating. Have you been drinking? Is there alcohol on board after all?"

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Very funny. Jane _is_ my problem."

"Forgive me, but I don't follow. If it hadn't been for that dear woman, you'd have ended belly up countless times. What on Earth has she done to you to deserve such harsh treatment?"

"She had dinner with an idiot who thinks himself a wood industry magnate."

"And why would you care who Jane has dinner with?"

"Because…" He paused and looked out of the window, to the green, disgusting cheerful land below.

"Because something has changed, hasn't it, Lovejoy?"

He frowned and turned back to Tinker, brows knitted together. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I could tell you it's because I'm extremely perceptive, and a little psychic—but the truth is, I've been waiting for this to happen for a long time."

_Now that's an interesting fact._ "You have?"

The look Tinker gave him was one usually reserved for people who'd mistaken a Picasso with a Rossetti. "It was either that, or one of you moving away to some distant corner of the world. No person in their right mind could possibly cope with that many feelings. What I don't understand, however, is why you're sitting here, grumbling, instead of talking to her and clearing the things up for once?"

"Not that easy, Tink." Lovejoy sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "We thought we've had it all figured out—but then things changed, again. _I_ changed. And I have no idea what Jane would think of it if she knew."

Tinker gave him another look, this time a slightly more worried one. "Well, you're not going to find out by keeping it all in and brooding, are you?..."

"But what if she doesn't feel the same way about me? What if..."

"Lovejoy, you're acting like a love struck teenager. A _female_ love struck teenager."

_Damn this man for being right._ "So you think I should talk to her?"

Tinker raised his eyes to the ceiling in a mock prayer. "And on the third day, he'd seen the light."

* * *

><p>Naturally, nothing had gone the way he wanted it to.<p>

Yes, they found the frescos. Yes, Katrina was happy. No, Jane didn't look like she'd spent the previous night doing God knows what with Fraser.

But then Margaret turned up, and the house fell into an uproar. Lovejoy backed off to his room and started pacing nervously, hands in his pockets, ignoring Hector's agitated growling under the bed. Should he go and talk to Jane now? Was she busy reviving Katrina, or calling Fraser to re-discuss the selling of the pigsty? Or, basically, doing something else entirely that didn't include him?...

_You're panicking again, old dog, and it's all rather unbecoming,_ he chastised himself silently and groaned, leaning against the window sill.

There was a knock on his door—probably Tinker, coming to whine his way out of sleeping in the pigsty. "Not in the mood, Tink!"

The doorknob turned, despite his protest. "I'm not Tinker. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Funny. Back on the plane he'd said he wasn't _you_. Am I supposed to understand you think my mind's going?"

She closed the door quietly and took a few steps towards him, stopping short of touching him. "What did I do, Lovejoy? You've been short with me ever since you came back. What happened?"

He tried to compose himself and approach this matter rationally. It was rather hard to do so, though, when blood was thundering in his ears, and the very thought of her spending time (however innocently) with another man was making him see red. "Oh, I don't know, Janie. Perhaps I would've been happier if you hadn't waltzed away for a _dinner_ with that pitiful excuse of a man."

"Is that about Robert again?" Jane sighed in exasperation and came closer, leaning against the window frame. "Why are you so fixated on him, Lovejoy? You must know there is nothing going on between us..."

"Oh, _must I_? And why is that, Janie?"

She blinked slowly and frowned, a little colour appearing on her cheeks. "If you want me to be crude about it—perhaps because I've recently spent quite some time in _your_ bed, not his?"

"Oh, now that really solved the problem. Why didn't _I_ think of it?"

"Alright, that's enough from you." Jane folded her arms defensively and glared at him. "We seemed to have been doing so well, and now you're acting like a spoilt brat!"

"So, we have been 'doing well', haven't we? According to whom, exactly?"

Jane took a step back and bit her lip, something akin to worry flashing in her eyes. "I thought... you seemed quite happy, Lovejoy. Weren't you?"

"How could I possibly be happy, if I weren't allowed to as much as hold your hand in public, much less admit that we were actually..."

"What, Lovejoy?" she interrupted him, placing one hand gently on his arm. "What were we, exactly? What _are_ we?"

"What you obviously want us to be. A couple of people sleeping together, and hiding the fact from everybody else."

She slowly withdrew her hand and looked down at the floor, wringing her hands. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

He let out a long, shaky breath—not exactly a sigh, no—and took her hands in his, drawing circles on her skin with his thumbs. "I might have, or at least I thought I did. But now I know that I don't—not anymore."

Her eyes remained locked with his as she stepped in closer, twining her fingers with his. "What _do you _want then, Lovejoy?"

He swallowed hard and mustered up all his courage, ignoring the warning bells going off in his mind. It was high time that he stopped playing games, stopped belittling important matters, and started acting like a grownup—something he'd been trying to avoid doing for the better part of his adulthood.

"I want you to let me love you, Jane." She inhaled sharply and tried to say something, but he shook his head and continued, "Jane, you're the second woman in my life I've ever said it to, with these exact words—I love you. Now that I think of it, it might be the first time I actually said it, and meant it. And although I tried to give you the time and the space, and get over the fact that you may not want to make our relationship public so soon after that wretched 'affair' with Alexander, I cannot simply—"

He had a whole speech prepared, and was about to present many sound arguments to make her believe him, but he never got to that part; for suddenly he'd found himself thrown against a wall by the window, with a handful of a Lady Jane pressed up against him, her lips occupying his and thus silencing him quite efficiently.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she gasped against his cheek and bent her head, biting his neck, hard. "Why do you always need to be so stubborn, Lovejoy?"

He moaned uncontrollably and grabbed her waist, turning them over and pushing her into the wall instead. "Tell me, Jane," he demanded, nipping at her skin, for the first time not paying attention whether he'd leave a mark or not. "Tell me."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugged at his hair, making him look up and into her eyes. "I love you, you idiot," she smiled, pressing her forehead to his. "Now let's go, my room is just—"

She actually yelped and laughed out loud as he slid his arms under her thighs, hoisting her up, trapping her between the cold, hard wall and his warm, solid body. "If you think I'm going to let you go now, you're badly mistaken," he declared, undoing the buttons on the back of her dress and planting kisses on every new bit of skin he'd uncovered.

"What about—_oh!_—Hector?"

"He only makes a fuss when somebody lies down on 'his' bed. And I do not believe we need a bed for what I have in mind."

'But, Lovejoy... is it sensible?..."

"Oh, no."

He loved the way her eyes darkened as she pushed the jacket off his shoulders and pulled him closer, leaning in to graze his earlobe with her teeth. "Oh, good."

* * *

><p>Fortunately, the castle walls proved sturdy enough, and since Lovejoy managed to swallow every gasp and moan Jane uttered, nobody came rushing in to the rescue. There was one moment, as Jane's inner muscles clenched around him and the pointy heel of her shoe slid across the back of his thigh (dangerously, yet enticingly close to the important bits of his anatomy), when Lovejoy thought he was actually going to cry out loud enough to wake everybody up—but he quickly closed his mouth around Jane's nipple, which turned out to be the very best thing he could have done, at least judging from their respective reactions.<p>

Hector did howl and bark a little at the beginning, but soon enough he realized all resistance was futile, so he calmed down and didn't bother them anymore, save for an occasional whine. Lovejoy took it as a permission for them to lie down on the bed and catch their breaths, which they gladly did, shedding the rest of their clothes to the floor—though Jane did complain a little about the ruination of her dress.

"I'll buy you a new one," Lovejoy promised, stroking her bare skin from shoulder to hip and up again, his other arm wrapped tightly around Jane's waist. She smiled and kissed his chest, smoothed the purple bruise over his right pectoral muscle with the pad of her thumb.

"And a white one, too?"

Lovejoy raised himself up over her and kissed her deeply, before replying in earnest, "If you wish."

"Are you sure, Lovejoy?" she looked up at him, wide eyed, and he couldn't help but smile at the joy in her eyes that she tried hard to conceal, and failed.

He nodded and kissed the very tip of her nose. "I believe I am—but if you want to be sure, you can ask me about it again tomorrow, when I'm not entirely drunk with your beauty. I would have offered you all my worldly possessions if you asked it of me now."

"...which wouldn't have been a whole lot," she quipped and squealed as he tickled her sides, pulling him closer to her, running her hands down his back, all the way to...

There was a knock on the door.

Lovejoy groaned and hit his forehead against the pillow, before looking around in a hopeless search for his pants. Jane rolled her eyes and got up, bent to collect Lovejoy's T-shirt from the floor—giving him a lovely view to include in his inner memories collection—and pulled it on, heading for the door. _I will never wear T-shirts again. They look so much better on her anyway._

"Katrina?" Jane frowned at her friend as she set the door ajar. "What's wrong?"

There was an awkward pause, and then: "Oh... Jane!... I'm—I'm _so_ sorry to bother you, but an unkempt young man on a motorcycle has just arrived, asking for Lovejoy and babbling about some mirror..."

Jane rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. "That must be Eric. Would you keep him downstairs for a moment? He's rather harmless, I promise you." She closed the door and turned back to Lovejoy with and amused smile, drinking in the sight of his naked body spread on the bed. "Come on now, no rest for the wicked. Let's see what the boy had managed to get himself into this time..."

"And then we come back to bed?" Lovejoy asked hopefully, batting his eyelashes in a perfect imitation of a blushing maiden, which clashed rather badly with his general appearance.

Jane put one knee up on the bed and leaned in, giving his lips a gentle peck.

"Of course we do."

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** The Muse has finally decided to let me finish this fic—thank you very much for your patience, as well as all the reviews and support you've given me, and I do hope you like the coda to this story!_

_I can also promise you with certainty that I will be back to dabble in this fandom—the world needs more 'Lovejoy' fics, that's a well-known fact…_

* * *

><p>"May I ask you about something, gentlemen?"<p>

"Of course, Lovejoy."

"Why the heck are you keeping watch by my door?"

Tinker gave him a completely innocent—and thus even more suspicious—smile. "We're here to make sure you won't disappear off to anywhere at the very last moment."

Lovejoy rolled his eyes and moaned. "Did Jane put you up to this?"

"On the contrary. She said she believed in you, and wanted us to leave you alone."

"Which is precisely why we came," Eric supplied matter-of-factly. "We couldn't well have Lady Jane experience the greatest disappointment of her life, could we?"

Lovejoy snorted, appraising himself critically in the mirror. "Honestly? You think I'm going to make a run for it?"

"Everything's possible with you, Lovejoy."

He turned away from them and towards the mirror, surveying his—highly unusual—appearance with a frown. "It might have been, but I seriously doubt if this is still the case."

* * *

><p>"Come <em>on<em>, Lovejoy, why won't you let us in?"

"This is a private thing, Eric: ever heard the word? It means that only the _interested parties_ are supposed to attend."

"But Lovejoy—"

"No 'buts', Tink! You are _not_ coming inside!"

* * *

><p>"I still think you were too hard on them," Jane said with a small sigh, leaning her back against Lovejoy's chest and resting her head on his shoulder. He huffed impatiently and wrapped one arm around her waist, with the other pouring champagne into the glasses Jane held in her hands.<p>

"I let them stay outside and voice their happiness. I still think they got quite a bargain, what with the amount of booze I bought for them."

"And you went to all that trouble because you didn't want them to know your first name?" she teased and turned her head to capture his earlobe between her teeth. "What are you going to do, now that _I_ know it, and could easily tell them what it is?"

"I'm going to ensure your loyalty to myself, by making you very, very happy."

Her eyes flashed with amusement and slight disbelief. "Is that a promise, Lovejoy? Should you be making one right now?"

"I've already made some today, including the one to see to your happiness, and didn't hear you complain," he pointed out, reclaiming one of the glasses and clinking it gently against Jane's. "Why the sudden flash of doubt?"

She sighed happily and shook her head, her hair tickling Lovejoy's nose enticingly. "Everything about you seems different somehow. Take this place, for instance," she flicked her wrist and pointed to the shiny, metallic décor of the hotel room, its soft, creamy rug covering the entire floor, and dark wood of the furniture. "I don't think there's a single piece of antique in sight!"

"Actually, there are—two of them, to be exact. I'm one, obviously; as for the other… ouch! What was that for?"

Jane rubbed the point on Lovejoy's arm she'd pinched a moment earlier. "Let's just say I didn't particularly enjoy the way you seemed to be going in with that statement."

"Ah, ye of little faith! For your information, I meant this."

He pulled a small, rectangular box from under the pillow, and handed it to Jane, watching with a smug smile as she ran her fingers across the smooth surface, and cautiously lifted the lid. Inside, snuggled tightly against the white lining, lay a pocket watch of old, slightly darkened silver, its surface adorned with a delicate, flowery pattern. Jane opened it, to find a short column of dates and initials etched carefully on the inner side. "Lovejoy, it's… where on Earth did you get it?"

"It's been in my family for four generations. I hope it serves you well, measuring out only good times, naturally spent in my humble company. And if you ever decide to leave me, you may want to hold on to it, since it's probably the only thing of real value I've got left—apart from you, that is."

Jane clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, resting her forehead briefly against Lovejoy's. "Who says I'm yours to have?"

"The minister, no more than three hours ago."

"Was it so long already? Three hours of being married to you, and I've yet to become a part of a scam, or lose all my money on some hopeless enterprise? I'm rather amazed at your stagnancy, husband dearest."

His hold of her waist tightened, and his lips nipped gently at the joint of her neck and shoulder. "Say that word again, Janie."

"What, 'stagnancy'?"

Another nip, soothed with a gentle flick of tongue. "The other one."

Jane set her champagne glass and the watch on the nightstand, and turned in Lovejoy's arms, looking at him with slightly darkened eyes. "Husband."

"Wife," he half-groaned, half-whispered against her lips, blindly setting his own glass down before focusing all his attention on the miraculously fact of not only having Jane in his arms, but also knowing with breathtaking clarity that the ring on her finger, currently touching the nape of his neck, was the one he himself slipped on it mere hours ago.

They took their time, savouring each other as much as the high quality softness of the bed linen, the warmth of the late afternoon sun, the taste of champagne licked languidly off heated skin. The evening crept silently into the room, surprising them as they lay in a tangle of limbs under the sheer, silk sheet, basking in the afterglow.

"How come it took me so long to steal you away from that upper-class life of yours, I'll never know."

"Perhaps your wits aren't just as sharp as you'd like to believe them to be?..."

"Oh, that was a nice one, straight through the heart, love."

"I learnt from the best."

Lovejoy chuckled, placing a kiss on the crown of Jane's head. "Look what's become of us. You're ready to give the greatest cynic in the country a run for his money, and I'm… well, _domesticated_, for the lack of a better word."

"You certainly haven't envisioned that when you first came to see me in Felsham Hall, now have you? I didn't know whether you would rather turn around on the doorstep and make a run for it, or ravish me in that attic, evening gown and all…"

"I have a rather firm conviction which way my own mind had been inclined," he answered smugly, flipping her over to take a long, meaningful look in her eyes before capturing her mouth in yet another passionate kiss. She kissed him back with equal favour, as quirked an eyebrow as they came up for air.

"I do seem to notice something that is rather _firm_ around here… are you feeling rested already?"

"What can I say?" Lovejoy smiled, tracing the contour of Jane's face with his fingertips. "You inspire me."

She twined her fingers through his hair and rubbed her nose against his, her eyes radiant in the soft semi-darkness of the room. "And how long do you suppose this particular effect may last?"

There could be but one good answer to that question—and fortunately, he knew it.

"Only until the end of our lives."

**The End**


End file.
